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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27335128">Spanning Seasons and Planets</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkVoid116/pseuds/DarkVoid116'>DarkVoid116</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Veronica Mars (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crossover, F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:09:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27335128</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkVoid116/pseuds/DarkVoid116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike walked into a bar. Then Logan Echolls did, and four lives were never the same. A Veronica Mars/Buffy the Vampire Slayer crossover written for Elysian Fields' Trapped challenge.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars, Spike/Buffy Summers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Spanning Seasons and Planets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a crossover. It contains spoilers for the entire run of Buffy, and at least S1-3 of Veronica Mars.</p><p>It's not fully written yet, but updates should be fairly regular. Aiming to start with weekly or bi-weekly on 11/12, and proceed from there depending on how NaNo goes. I have attempted to include all story info you need about the characters within the text, so if you're only a Buffy fan or only a Veronica Mars fan, this is still an enjoyable read for you.</p><p>A huge, huge thank you to bewildered &amp; CubbieGirl1723 for beta-reading this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>August, 2007</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spike stared at his hands, regretting coming to the bar at all. He’d gotten shitfaced drunk the previous night, like he did many Saturdays nowadays, but this time was different. It’d been a little more than four years since he’d been resurrected, and six since that fucking horrible summer with the Bit. The end of each summer brought him closer to some of his best Buffy memories, which all seemed to happen in the fall. Their first fight, in the school. Seeing her on the dance floor at the Bronze, a powerful combination of sleek and confident. Fighting her with the Gem of Amara, then Thanksgiving dinner. Kissing her, fucking her, relishing the sight of her alive and there, dreading the knowledge she’d been yanked from Heaven by her careless group of friends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bloody hell, he just missed the Slayer. He’d wanted to go to her right fast after popping out of the amulet in his grandsire’s office, but everything conspired against him until it’d been so long he didn’t know what to say. He still loved the stubborn bint, but she’d been so frustrated with him when she found out he’d been alive, or undead, and never bothered letting her know... </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spike still regularly talked to Dawn, who had turned into the Slayer and his biggest cheerleader over time. Was bloody weird, given how strained their relationship had been that last year in Sunnydale, but Spike wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It all led to his current predicament, sipping the American shite these bars offered, wondering where Buffy was, what she was doing, who she was shagging. He didn’t delude himself into thinking she’d wait for him to get his shit together and apologize. Too much time had passed now. She was off, living her life in Rome, or Scotland, or wherever the bloody fuck Dawn said they’d settled down in now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When a young man in a hoodie sat down on the barstool next to him, Spike paid the git no more mind than the curious blonde chit by the door who kept eying him. Even after the guy ordered a Stella with a clearly fake ID, and the bartender just prattled on about whatever rot he was spinning, Spike ignored it -- until the man’s phone started ringing and a picture of fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>Willow</span>
  </em>
  <span> showed up on a phone he’d never seen before. He hadn’t even realized that shit was possible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Trina,” the guy said. “What’s up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spike listened to one end of the conversation, questions piling up inside his mind. Who the bloody hell was Trina, and why did she look like Red’s doppelganger? Next, he’d find out this guy knew someone who resembled Harris’ cheerleader ex. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Focusing, he tried to listen to the redhead’s end of the conversation. He was only able to make out ‘Baby brother’ and ‘movie deal’, but it seemed like the kid wasn’t too keen on whatever idea his sister was spouting off about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” the guy said. “I’m not doing that. Just find some two-bit actor to play me, Trina. Fucking hell, Charlie will never agree to play me. He doesn’t even want to know either of us, Trin.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tuning out the bloody family drama, Spike thought back to the Slayer and her friends. He hadn’t talked to Red in ages, but the sight of someone just like her brought up the nicer moments they’d shared during the time he’d known her. Comforting each other when she missed her wolf and he couldn’t sodding bite anyone, crying over his wicked princess in the factory, time spent as something resembling friends during the summer Buffy was gone....</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’d always brassed him off how easily Willow and Xander tossed him aside like a ragdoll once their resurrection act was finished. They’d relied on him the entire bloody summer, soulless and all, to watch the Bit when they were too busy to, yet he was yesterday’s used trash the moment they had their Slayer back. He’d played the part of a good neutered vampire and never said much, especially once he discovered what they’d taken from Buffy, but it had never sat well with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those decisions permanently curtailed any real friendship he could’ve had with them; the two years that followed just drove that bloody point home more by the day. Spike’d never really had people he thought of as </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends</span>
  </em>
  <span> during his centuries as a vampire. Buffy, the Bit, and Joyce were the first people he’d consider something more than acquaintances, and one treated him like shite for half the time they knew each other, one hated his guts for a good year, and the last died while they were on the outs, their friendship never patched up. It was something he regretted every fucking day the last few years when he thought of Joyce.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Most days, he still wanted to call Buffy and work through their issues, so he didn’t feel that again. Others... </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’d done so well to train his mind to think of better things, happier times, whenever the Slayer popped into his brain, but the changing weather, the L.A. summer coming to a close, brought him back a decade. Seeing a picture of someone who could’ve been Red’s twin hadn’t helped matters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knocking back the rest of his drink in one large swig, Spike stared at the man next to him again. The guy was off the phone, and Spike’s slightly drunk mind buzzed with questions he needed answered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That bint? She your sister, mate?” Spike asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The guy looked up from whatever rot he’d been typing, pausing with his fingers poised above the keyboard. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She looks just like a girl I used to know,” Spike said, digging through his pocket for a picture he kept. As bloody annoying as Andrew was, the first few years after Sunnydale, a package addressed to Spike with a new picture of the Sunnydale crew from the kid’s documentary would show up on Angel’s stoop each Christmas, and Spike appreciated it more each year. He found the picture of Willow he’d been looking for and showed it to the guy. “This one,” he pointed out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, wow. Yeah, she does look like Trina. I’m Logan,” the guy said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Spike,” he said in reply. “So, what’re you drinking to forget?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Logan mumbled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spike snorted. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. Have a nice evening, mate.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned back to his drink, intent on ignoring the git, when Logan’s soft voice reached his ears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A blonde spitfire of a woman.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, well. Weren’t they two peas in a pod? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spike shifted his eyes back to the younger man, suddenly interested. “All right. Color me intrigued. Had a similar problem awhile back. Maybe I can help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan had noticed the dude with the bright blond, spiked-up hair the moment he stepped into the bar. He was the only person not conforming to the mood in the room, and that caught his attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sitting down next to the guy, Logan had ordered the beer he figured would blend in the most. Black Duster Dude snorted in disbelief when the bartender returned Logan’s ID to him with nary a comment, but he was used to that sort of willingness to overlook petty crime in Neptune. Clearly, his stool partner wasn’t from around here.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After his call with Trina ended, the guy tried to strike up a conversation, but the topic just depressed Logan. He absolutely, under no circumstances wanted to think about his past, of marshmallows and promises and sweet whispered words when Veronica thought he was sleeping. The only time she’d made herself bare for him had been when nobody could hear her admissions. She whispered that she loved him, that he was important to her. When shit had hit the fan this past year, he’d taken refuge in that knowledge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spike looked like he was ready to get up, so Logan answered the question hurriedly. He didn’t know why he’d actually responded truthfully, but it felt good to talk about her aloud. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Spike offered an ear, the floodgates opened, and Logan couldn’t stop. “She’s wonderful, you know? Feisty and beautiful and a ray of light. Well, most of the time.” He laughed at the mental image of her unloading her fury on an unsuspecting victim, even when it was him. “She’s smart and the best person I know, and I really fuckin’ love her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nodding knowingly, Spike asked, “What’s the problem, then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I fucked up,” Logan lamented. “I slept with someone while we were broken up, and she can’t get past it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Been there, mate. Bloody hell, your story sounds a mite like mine,” Spike said, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “So, what’re you gonna do about it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She gets back next week from her summer internship, but when she left, she was with another guy,” Logan said, noticing a woman near the door looking particularly interested in his answer. Memories of Piz, and the tape, swirled through his brain. Even months after the fact, those images were seared into his mind, and he fucking hated it. He couldn’t stand the prick, and seeing him with Veronica, a lovey dovey couple with their hand holding and shy glances, was sure to disgust him all over again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That sucks, mate,” Spike drawled, picking up his drink and sipping from it. “I knew a girl like that, and had to watch her with an overgrown hall monitor who couldn’t see a good thing if it bit him in his arse. Fucking hated that git.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spike’s British accent amused Logan, but he didn’t know what a ‘git’ was. He decided it wasn’t pertinent. “What did you do to the guy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Spike waved it off, “I wasn’t with the Slayer back then.” He gulped down the rest of his drink then motioned to the bartender for another. “She hated my bleedin’ guts at the time. Can’t really blame her. I was terrible to her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Same shit, different guy,” Logan muttered under his breath. Louder, he said, “Been there.” God, he’d fucked up so badly in high school with Veronica. It was a damned miracle she even gave him the time of day. That she directed her love and affection his way was beyond comprehension. He didn’t deserve her, a beautiful combination of goodness and kindness rolled up in a delicious S’mores. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hmm, Veronica taste</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Logan thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spike snorted, causing Logan to glance at him in confusion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Could practically see the stars in your eyes, mate. Why not just call her?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you gonna call your girl?” he countered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turning away, Spike said, “No. Her friends don’t think we’re good together, anyway. ‘S not worth it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan understood </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, too. “Veronica’s friends hate me. Well, Wallace does.” Fuck, he must be starting to get a buzz if he was freely talking about this with some bleached idiot at a bar. He’d had a few before walking to the bar, and they were starting to sit heavy in his stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Veronica’s your girl, I’m guessin’?” Spike asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Logan said, glancing at the clock out of the corner of his eye. “You know, sometimes I wish someone could see my relationship with her the way she and I do. Maybe it would be easier for us to make it work,” Logan said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, mate. I wish that, too, for the Slayer an’ I,” Spike said softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neither of the men at the bar heard the soft, “Wishes granted,” nor were they aware that, at that very moment, the loves of their respective lives had their worlds turned upside down.</span>
</p>
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